Undone by a Broken Angel

16.) Is this what love feels like?

"Dear friends, let us love one another, because love comes from God.  Whoever loves is a child of God and knows God."

-1 John 4:7

He wakes up in the morning to a tapping sound.  Sitting up, he sees a raven at his window, a parchment clutched in his talons.  Oh great, he thinks a message from Abe can’t be good.

He pushes himself up from the floor where he had slept and opens the window for the creature.  It drops the paper in his hand and flies off into the morning sun.

Over his shoulder, he glances at the sleeping girls and notices she’s still sleeping.  It is early still, but his mouth twists in frustration, wondering when she’ll wake up.

The message in his hand seems heavy with importance, so he opens it and lets the black ribbon fall away.  I found her. Come home.

So much for finding her himself.  

A wave of envy washes over him and the image of him bringing home the princess shatters into a million pieces.  At least there’s still a possibility that she could fall in love with him, being that the one man who found her is the one man can’t have.

The painting he finished last night draws his attention and he picks it up, now completely dry.  He has time, he thinks, to go sell it and come back before the girl wakes up.  He’s going to need the money even though he doesn’t have far to go, only a one day trip.  Anything can happen.  He should have enough time today to wrap up his affairs here and head back at nightfall.  Maybe Marie would hold his paintings for him while he’s away- he could always come back for them later.

He heads out into the new day with his painting wrapped up in a protective paper.  There’s a gallery around the corner who usually purchases his work, so he heads there now, a sum of money coming to mind.

The door chimes as he enters and he’s greeted by the owner, Leonard.  “Do you have something for me today?  I’ve waited a long time for you to come back.  Your paintings are growing in popularity.”

Joshua smiles at the man’s teasing and hands him the package.  The place hasn’t changed much- it’s well lit and full of colorful paintings, drawings, and carvings.  Most of the windows are to the north and south of the building so it has light all day long but doesn’t allow direct sunlight on any of the work.  Most colors will break down over prolonged exposure to sunlight.  This is why Joshua trusts Leonard with his paintings; he knows how to protect them.  “I’m hoping to get a good price today, Leonard.  I’m leaving town and I’m not sure if I’ll be coming back.”

Leonard’s face fills with surprise.  “Let’s see it, then.”  He opens the folded paper and pulls out the painting.  “Wow, this is... wonderful!”

Joshua brightens.  “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes!  This is worth more than I can give you,” Leonard informs him with a bright smile.

Finally.  Joshua is about to get his break.

Leonard jots down the names of a few people that do have enough money to purchase his painting.  He gives the shop owner his thanks and heads out in search of the people on Leonard’s list.  The addresses are all close together, belonging to the wealthy section of the city.  He’s not far from it, but it’s still going to take some time on foot, so he heads out right away, excited to see what they’ll offer him.

The mansion he chooses first is busy when he arrives, and he watches happily as the house servants work like bees to ready the house for breakfast.  A few ladies are back from the city market, their arms full of baguettes, noodles, eggs, and milk.

He hopes the madame and monsieur are up and adam, ordering the house around to suit their needs.  He raps on the door and hears the banging echo on the other side.  It must be very open on the inside, with high ceilings and a grand staircase, with how the sound is bouncing around.

A butler answers and inquires about his visit.

 “Leonard at the gallery on 3rd sent me.  He said he didn’t have the funds available to purchase my painting.  This house was on his list,” he says, shaking some as he shows his note.

“Please, come in,” the butler says.  “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Joshua Crom, Sir,” he replies to the formal man.  He steps aside to let Joshua in and sees that his suspicions were correct about the architecture of the building.  He eyes the foyer and sees that the owners must be very rich.  They have many paintings and they have a huge chandelier  hanging from the ceiling, the crystals throwing rainbows about the room.

“May I take your cloak?” the butler asks, and Joshua quickly refuses.

He angles his back away from the butler.  “I don’t intend to stay long,” he tells him, thinking about the girl sleeping in his bed.

“Very well, sir.  I will fetch the Madam of the house, then.  Colette will be excited you have come,” he reassures him and leaves, taking the back halls in search of the madam.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long, he doesn’t wait long, the madam comes in in a flourish, her friendly, buoyant personality seeming to fill the massive room.  Her burgundy dress is almost as big as her personality is.

“You have a painting for me?” she wonders with a bright smile.

He’s glad he chose this house first.  “Yes Madam, I do,” he says laying on a table to his right.  He removes the paper and the little girl’s smile is revealed, her halo shining bright atop her energetic frame.

Colette gasps dramatically, “how magnificent!”  She chimes her delight, clapping her hands excitedly.  

“Thank you, Madam, for your opinion,” he tells her politely.

“This will look lovely in my galleries!  Do you do commissions?  My little girl would look perfect in your style.”

Joshua deflates some, feeling the frustrations of being called home.  What timing!  “I’m leaving town, unfortunately,” he informs her regretfully.  “This will be my last painting in Paris.”

“Then I must buy it!” she tells him with a light touch to his arm.  “Would fifty euros be a good price?” she wonders, looking at the painting while turning it this way and that.

That price went way over what he was expecting.  He agrees, and she takes it to her gallery, letting the butler handle the finances.  He departs with a sincere thank you and a good-bye.

Finally on his way back to his apartment, he walks with a spring to his step, fifty euros burning a hole in his pocket.

He unlocks his door sometime later and walks inside, and then is knocked to the floor.  There’s a shriek and a  tussle of fabric, and then his world turns over.  His head painfully hits the floorboards and he felt his bow and arrows dig into the space between his shoulder blades.  The girl on top of him presses her sharp knee into his breastbone and her small blade hugs the thin shim on his neck.  He isn’t sure which pain to focus on first, but he is sure he should be worried about the knife on his neck.

“Good morning,” he greets her cheerfully.  

She blinks in confusion and the hard grip on her weapon loosens.  Green eyes bore into his grey ones, and he finds that he quite likes the color against her tan skin and mousy brown hair.  

“I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up, but I’m glad you have,” he speaks, hoping to calm down her panicked mind.  She must be so scared; he has no idea what she’s all been through, but he’s sure she is wondering where she woke up and why she did so alone.  “Are you hungry?”

She holds his eyes in hers, and he can see her resolve crumbling.  She nods once, her nostrils flaring.  It seems her hunger is beating out her fear.  For the time being, anyway.  She lets him up and he settles her back onto the edge of his bed.  He goes back to his small kitchen, lights the stove, and begins mixing ingredients together.  Deciding on crepes, he pulls out some raspberry preserves he had canned earlier in the year.  The silence is uncomfortable and he can’t assume what’s going through her mind, so he starts talking while he works.

“I heard you scream last night and it made my heart stop,” he explains.  “So I went out to help you as soon as I could and found you passed out in the alley with your attacker.  Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again.”  He pours the mixture onto his puttered pan and waits for it to brown before flipping it.  “I couldn’t leave you out there.”

He glances over his shoulder at the girl and notices her scowl, so he continues, “you didn’t wake up and I couldn’t tell if you were badly injured or not, so I just let you sleep.  What happened to you?”

Rape happened to her, he know, but that’s about all.  He doesn’t know what led up to that event or what her life is like at all.  He receives only silence, so just works on the meal, pondering her condition.  What if he cannot heal her?  He’s no David...

As the crepes finish cooking, he slides them onto a platter and delivers them to the girl with a small dish of the preserves.  Wanting to give her space, he settles on the floor in the center of the room, his cloak billowing out around him and the tips of his wings bending where they meet the floor.

She devours her plate and he smiles to himself, at least someone enjoys his cooking.  Her gaze flicks up to meet his again and he swallows down a big bite, readying himself for whatever she has in mind to say.  She’s intense, he thinks.

“I was r***d,” she tells him with no life in her voice.  “I didn’t see him.”

“And you thought I was your assailant,” he supplies.

She nods once.

“I have no wish or want to harm you,” he tells her honestly.  “My name is Joshua and I’m from an island off the coast of Scotland.  What’s your name?”

“Farren,” she answers.  “Can I stay here?  Until I feel better?”  The fear rolls off of her, not wanting to go back outside.  She clutches her plate as if to ground her.

The need to stay and help her is overwhelming, but he has a duty to his people and besides, he would really like to meet the falcone woman.  He’s only been able to imagine what they look like- the memories of his mother are so sparse- that she would be perfect inspiration to finish most of his paintings.  If he ever gets back here to finish them.

She notices his hesitation and she quickly tries to back petal, to smooth over the events from when he came home.  “I’m sorry for attacking you!”

He raises a hand as if to say, “don’t worry about it”.  “I’d love for you to stay until you’re ready to leave, but I’m not.  Staying, that is.  I received a letter this morning and my family needs me back home.”

Her face doesn’t change, but her eyes take on a shine of moisture and his stomach sinks in guilt.  “But you can stay until I leave tonight.  I have a few things I need to tie up before I go.  Are you in any pain?”

She doesn’t answer at first and he assumes she is experiencing some discomfort in her lady parts, in which case he has no experience with.  “I have pain,” she finally tells him, “but I must heal on my own.”

He smiles at her in understanding.

Getting up, he starts to sort through all his paintings, art supplies, clothes, and books.  He places the paintings in line based on the canvas sizes and then each pile by how finished they are.  His art supplies go in boxes based on medium and color.  All his books are neatly placed in boxes, then wrapped up, and marked for shipping.  He can’t send them to Eden, of course, but there’s a small town nearby he can send it to and pick up.  The big paintings will have to stay, but the small ones he can send home as well.

They fall into easy conversation.  He learns that she has no family, that they died of smallpox last winter after a ship had docked and the sailors in it infected the city.  She was lucky enough to survive with no scarring, but most of her loved ones were not.  Now, she’s forced to find food and make money on the street doing odd jobs- more than once selling her body.  It makes him sick that humans rely on money so much so  that their morals are compromised, and he wishes there is more he can do for her.  The more he learns, the more he comes to see how strong she is.  She’s a survivor, like him and the other remaining falcone.  They’d like her, he thinks.

Hours go by, and before he knows it, it’s almost dusk.  They decide they’d like some pasta for supper, so he leaves to grab some.  When he returns, he finds Farren sifting through the unwrapped paintings, her slender fingers running down their edges, being careful not to touch the paint.  There’s a look of awe on her face and the fear that filled them before is gone.  He soaks in the peace she’s feeling and smiles.

“Do you like them?” he asks.

She hums in agreement.  “They feel lonely.”

He isn’t sure what to say.  He wasn’t intending for his loneliness to transfer into his work, but how could they not when he feels so much?

“They make me feel like I’m not the only one,” she continues with a hushed tone, not intending for him to hear, but his falcone ears pick it up.

It’s a wonderful complement and his heart sings with happiness.

“Would you like one?” he finds himself asking. 

Her head snaps up at him, a look of shock all over her face.  “I don’t have a home.”

That makes him even more sad.  Is there anything he can do for her?

Perhaps there is.

“Stay here,” he pleads and then takes off down the hall to his landlords apartment and bangs on the door until it’s whipped open and an annoyed face meets him, their meal completely forgotten.

“What do you want this time, Crom?” he wonders with a bored voice.

“I’m leaving.  Tonight, but I’m keeping my lease,” he tells him breathless.

“What?”

“I’m letting a girl live there in my place and I’ll send you the money for rent.  Please, help me help her.”  He’s never felt this desperate before.  Well, maybe when he was pleading with his father to stay home.

“One missed payment and she’s out of here,” his landlord warns after a moment’s thought.  “And no funny business.  I don’t own a brothel.”

Joshua gives him a hard nod and then places three months rent in his hand.  “Thank you.”

He returns to Farren and he hands her the pasta she wanted.  He watches her eat and he smiles, feeling melancholy.  It pains him to leave her, but at least he’s going to give her a foundation, something more solid to live her life.

He gets up.  “I have to go now.  Can I count on you to get these mailed for me?” he asks, handing her some money.

She blinks at him in confusion.  “I guess.”

“Here,” he presses the key to his apartment into her small hand.  “Take it.  I’ve paid for three months rent.  I want you to stay here.”

He cuts her off before she can object.

“You can have what’s left in the kitchen and I don’t know if or when I can return, but you cannot conduct any...funny business... while i’m gone,” he says firmly with eyebrows raised.  “Yes?”

“Okay,” she says quietly.  “Thank you.”

He picks up his bag and gives her a side hug before he leaves.  If he stays any longer, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to leave.  It's strange, the way he feels around her, as if he’s known her for a long time.

She moves to hug him, but he leans away.  As much as he loves physical contact, he cannot let her feel his wings.  Instead, he places a soft kiss on her forehead and she blushes.  A small tear falls from her eye and he has to rip himself from her.  He swallows the evening air in big gulps as he steps outside.  It feels as though his heart has been ripped from his chest.

Could this be what love feels like?  If so, he’s not sure if he wants any part of it.

He makes it two blocks by the time he sees another bird swoop down to him.  This time its from Paul, the familiar purple ribbon holding the parchment together.

Dianna’s,  is all it says.

Well, that adds a lot of travel time for him.

Sighing, he changes direction, a million questions circling in his mind.